by Robin Roseau
“I would like to offer a special welcome to Queen Ralalta,” Mesenorié added. “It is good to see you again, my friend.”
Ralalta inclined her head.
“If you need anything, Lady Yallameenara,” said Tradódid, “there are pages in the hallway. Feel free to make yourself at home.”
“Thank you, King Tradódid and Queen Mesenorié,” I said. “I look forward to our evening together.”
They, along with Prodótar stood, and we all watched them step from the room. Once the doors were closed, I looked around. “I believe we should begin with introductions,” I said. “I believe everyone knows that I am Yallameenara, High Priestess to Yahamala.” I then turned to the Goddess and smiled. “She is here. Not all have seen us together. When I am repeating her words, I lift my left hand, like so.” I demonstrated, not raising it in the air, but simply lifting my hand near my shoulder with the palm facing forward. “As the primary reason for us being here is to meet with our Prestainamatta on this topic, this meeting will be conducted in her language.” I looked around. “Those who do not speak her words fluently all speak Framaran, and so Larien and Terél will translate in one direction or another.”
“She’s here?” Gressa asked.
“Right here,” I said.
She cocked her head.
“She doesn’t appear to believe you, Yalla,” said the Goddess. I could hear the amusement in her voice.
“She perhaps believes I am playing a trick on everyone,” I agreed.
The Goddess looked up. “The ceiling is hardly of sufficient height for a complete demonstration, but it will have to do.” And then she slipped from her seat, moved behind me, and pulled me backwards from mine. I screeched in surprise, then laughed and wrapped my arms around her neck as she lifted me. And a moment later, I knew her own feet had left the floor.
“Gressa,” I said. “Tyreen. This is about the best proof you’re going to get right now.” I switched languages. “They believe, or they don’t.”
“They believe, but we can’t blame them if they are a little skeptical,” she replied. Which I echoed, my hand up, and Larien translated into Framaran. A moment later, the Goddess returned me to my seat.
I handled formal introductions, just to be sure everyone knew everyone, and then said, “The reason we’re here is simple.”
I outlined what we were trying to do, and why, pausing for Terél’s translations. It took me perhaps fifteen minutes to state everything, and then I asked if Ralalta, Larien, or Terél had more to add.
Larien spoke for a minute or two.
When we were finished, I turned to Yahamala. “I have so many questions, and I didn’t want to do this without talking to you. I wasn’t sure I was making the right choices.”
“These seem like very good choices so far, but I also have questions. Which of yours are most pressing.”
“Am I doing the right thing, partnering with a school?” I turned to look at each abbess. “There must be a reason why our order has three abbeys and does not have such a partnership.”
“That is easy,” said Gontí. “Most of the people living at the abbey are full priestesses. We might only have one or two acolytes at a time.”
“You are building an order in Framara,” added the Goddess. “Your balance is different and will be for some time, but not forever.”
“I’m solving a different problem?”
“I would not put it that way,” said Moí. “I would say you have a different balance. You need a place to house priestesses. You need a place to house acolytes. We house our acolytes alongside our priestesses. You need to teach acolytes, and what you need to teach them is somewhat different. We need a place to worship our Prestainamatta, and a place for pilgrims to stay, and to learn more about our Prestainamatta. You have similar needs, but different at the same time.”
“But now we understand why you have brought us,” said Gontí. She turned to look at the woman seated beside Ralalta. “Headmistress Gwenla can offer much guidance, but we are happy to be here.”
Having mentioned her, everyone in the room turned to look at the headmistress, sitting quietly. Yahamala gave her a good look over and then said, “Yalla, I would like to look into her heart, and I would like to teach you how to do this for yourself. Will you ask her permission?”
I nodded and switched to Framara. “Gwenla,” I said. “The Goddess wishes to search your heart. She does this when she wishes the measure of someone. She asks your permission. And I should warn you, she is going to use this as an opportunity to teach me.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“I am the conduit for our Prestainamatta,” I said. “Her magic passes through me. Not always, of course, but often. And so she offers me a portion of this magic as well.”
“She would teach you the magic to look into a person’s heart?”
“Yes, that seems to be the offer. It won’t hurt, but it is an invasion of your privacy.”
“Tell her she may decline,” said the Goddess.
“She adds that you may decline,” I said.
“No,” said Gwenla. “I do not decline. If you are to trust me, should not I also trust you? I have nothing to hide.”
Larien had already translated that, and so the Goddess stood. “You will need to touch her, Yalla.” She pulled me to my feet, and we walked around the room. As we did, Gwenla also stood, turning to face us. “You have done this before, but in the past, you were only a conduit. This time, I am your guide, but we will both see.”
And so I nodded.
“Touch her now.”
“I am going to touch you,” I said. I stepped closer and set one hand on her head, another at the center of her chest.
“Feel the magic as it enters you,” said the Goddess. And then she was filling me. “You may wish to close your eyes, and instead you feel with the magic. I will guide you.”
And so, I did close my eyes, and I felt the magic moving from me into Gwenla. It felt like the magic was looking around, and then it found what it wanted, and suddenly I was filled with...
“Joy,” I whispered.
“Yes,” said the Goddess. “What else?”
“She is nervous,” I said. “Curiosity. Great curiosity.”
“Yes. Can you tell about what?”
“I think... everything.”
“And at the forefront?”
“You. And me.” I paused. “Larien, do not translate this. She is lonely.”
“Yes,” said the Goddess. “She fills her loneliness from the people around her.”
“Loss. But...” I smiled. “Larien, you may translate again. Children. Three. Grown.”
“Yes,” said the Goddess. “We shall not invade their privacy. Yalla, ask yourself a question. Can we trust this woman with our acolytes?”
And soon as she asked, I had my answer. “Yes,” I whispered. “We can.”
“We can,” the Goddess agreed. “Allow the magic to fade. Don’t pull it to you. Simply relax, and it will fade on its own. If you pull, you will hurt her.”
And so I did that, relaxing my thoughts, one might say, and I felt my awareness of Gwenla soften, becoming memories, but they would linger. I opened my eyes, withdrew my hands, and smiled. Then I took her hands again. “You are a good woman, Gwenla,” I said.
“Yalla,” said the Goddess. “I am pleased. Can you describe the site?”
When she heard the translation, however, Ralalta interjected, “We can do better than that.”
The Goddess and I both turned to her. “We can?”
“Tiera, would you like to show us what you’ve made?”
Tiera stood and collected Gressa and Tyreen as well. I grew suspicious as they moved to the other table. The three of them, working together, lifted the cloth that had been hiding...
A model of Merkel’s School for Girls.
There was a gasp of surprise, perhaps loudest from Gwenla. She hurried around the table to look at the model, and then the rest of us approache
d.
“Tiera,” I said. “This is amazing.”
“Gressa and Tyreen helped,” she said. “And we have more to show you.”
I looked over the model. She’d created not just the buildings, but the grounds, including the cliff leading to the ocean. She had used a variety of materials, although the buildings were done in clay, white from firing.
“Are the buildings this color?” the Goddess asked.
“I’m sorry. I had time to fire the model,” explained Tiera, “but I didn’t have time to glaze.”
I translated that and told the Goddess this was the color of clay that was dry and ready for paint.
And then from under the table, Gressa and Tyreen began producing drawings, propping them up against the table to lean against the wall. Some had been done quickly; others were more detailed. One was clearly the view out a window, looking at the sea. Another was of Gwenla and me talking, and a detailed drawing of Gwenla herself. The last one, done very detailed, looked like Tyreen had been standing on the hill where we wanted the temple. There was a corner of the academic buildings to one side, trees to the other, and a view of the sea in between.
“May I have that one?” I asked, pointing. Tyreen handed it to me, and I showed it to the Goddess.
“Why is this one more special than the others?” she asked.
“It is the view from here,” I said. I pointed to the corresponding location on the model. “This is where Queen Ralalta feels we should build the temple.”
The Goddess took the drawing from me, which I imagine looked odd to everyone else. She studied it for a long time, and compared it to the model.
She waited a minute, and then Tiera said, “I have one last building to add to the model. Queen Ralalta and I made this together.”
“That is not a fair way to put it,” said Ralalta. “I offered ideas and told her what I thought. I did not touch the clay.”
“The design is entirely hers,” Tiera said. “We made it together.”
“Prestainamatta,” said Ralalta, now speaking in her words. “Is only idea. Show. Not final.”
Tiera knelt down and removed a case from under the table. Tyreen stepped over, and together they lifted one last structure of clay. Moving carefully, they set it in place on the model. Tiera adjusted it for a moment, and then they stepped back.
The Goddess handed the drawing to Larien, who took it with some surprise, and then she lifted from the floor and moved over the model. She slowly circled the new building, Ralalta’s design for the new temple, in place on the model.
“It is simple,” Ralalta said. “Tiera and I talked about it while sitting in the palace temple. We stayed with Yalla’s design, as best we could. We envision a path from the school.” And she pointed. “And more paths. Guests from Marport would approach from town.”
“Where is Marport?” Yahamala asked.
“Here,” Ralalta gestured. “The school is south of the town.”
“So the people come here. The road is here?”
“Yes,” I said.
The Goddess gestured, and I felt her magic, and then there were small lights, traveling from the north, and then turning towards the model. The lights streamed towards the temple.
Ralalta clapped her hands and spoke to the Goddess. “Yes, Prestainamatta. Yes.”
The lights faded, and the Goddess said, “I interrupted her. Ask her to continue.”
“Of course,” said Ralalta. “People would arrive here. I don’t know what the interior would look like. I don’t know if there will be seating, or more than one room, but this wall facing the sea could be windows in poor weather, but it could open in nice weather.”
“I didn’t know how to show that,” said Tiera. “So I made it open, with columns. I don’t think that is what the builders would do. I am an artist, not an architect.”
The Goddess made one more circle. “It is smaller than the school buildings.”
“We can make it bigger,” said Ralalta. “If that is what you want.”
“I wish to understand the size you propose,” she replied. “How big is this compared to the temples at my abbeys?”
Moí and Gontí moved closer. “Five stories?” Moí asked, gesturing to the model of the school buildings.
“Yes,” confirmed Gwenla.
The two looked closely then Moí said, “Smaller. But in my time at Velvíienta, we have never filled the space.”
“Besquelálamárta is closer to Lopéna,” Gontí said. “We have had to open the doors for people outside to hear.”
“If you wish something grand, Prestainamatta,” Ralalta said. “This is the wrong design.”
“I do not desire grand,” she replied. “I do not care for the company of those gods who require grand. I need a place my priestesses can gather comfortably. But I also need a place for people from Marport to hear of my words, to learn of me. Queen Ralalta, Framara is south of here, and Marport far south. It is warmer.”
“Yes, but the storms from the ocean can be fierce.”
“Would the people of Marport come to a celebration held in an outdoor garden?”
“Of course, although not in poor weather.”
“I wish the best advice of those gathered here,” said the Goddess. “I do not know what Marport is like, and so you must guide me. If I suggested a large garden, with eight approaches to the middle, and space for many, many people to gather, could this be done? Would this be good?”
“Instead of this temple?”
“No,” she said. “The temple should be comfortable, for our priestesses to gather. It does not even need to be this big, unless this is the size Yallameenara prefers. I do not wish a temple so large as to hold half of Marport, but I would like a place for many to come, if they desire, but one that will be lovely if there are only a few. But I do not know your weather.”
“It sounds lovely,” Ralalta said, “although the winter solstice celebration would not be widely attended.”
“I wish my High Priestess here for the winter solstice,” she said. “What of the spring equinox.”
“Oh, now that would be quite lovely,” Ralalta said. “Would you allow weddings in this garden?”
“I would allow any events if the people honor me. I do not require them to call me Prestainamatta, but they must not desecrate my garden.”
“Do the eight approaches need to come from the eight directions, or could they come unevenly? Could we place the garden here, against the sea?” Ralalta pointed. “Before the temple, with paths here, and here.” She made more gestures.
“Yes,” said the Goddess. “And again, Yes. This is what I want. Is it difficult?”
“No, Prestainamatta,” Ralalta said.
“This temple. Is the interior larger than the Heart of My Heart?”
“Yes,” said Ralalta. “We thought there might be other rooms.”
The Goddess nodded. “I wish a room, open in good weather as you have shown, the size of the Heart of My Heart or so, but of any shape you desire. There should be an altar, and the surface should be bare, smooth stone.” She floated to me and then stood, and I turned to face her. The Goddess set her hands against my head, and I felt her magic entering me. “When all is ready, gather all our priestesses, including the acolytes, that are within Framara, and pour this magic forward into the altar.”
She filled me, and then the magic withdrew, but if I thought for it, I could feel it lurking at the corner of my mind.
“This will consecrate the altar,” she added.
“What about your words?” I asked.
She smiled. “It should be bare, smooth stone. No words.”
“I believe I understand, Prestainamatta.”
Prince
Princess Felésartinda curtsied to me as I stepped into their home within the palace. “Thank you for joining us, High Priestess.”
“Thank you for having us,” I replied. As Terél translated for the Goddess, the princess would understand she had four guests, not three. “Have
you been well?”
“Quite well,” she replied. “She’s with you.”
“Holding my hand,” I said. I lifted our joined hands to demonstrate.
Felésartinda gestured. “Dinner will be shortly. If you will come this way.”
“I’ve never been here,” I said. “It looks quite lovely.”
“No thanks to my husband,” she said. But then she smiled. “It has become home.” She led us through the room into a large sitting room. One corner had toys for their son, but the rest was devoted to adult pursuits. Felésartinda gestured, and we took seats. “Prodótar should already have been here. This is what he does. My apologies.”
“It gives us a chance to get to know each other,” I said. “We’ve only met in formal settings. Now we can be more relaxed. Perhaps you can tell me who you were before you were a princess.”
“And you will tell me of life on the arid grasslands to our west?”
“If you like,” I replied. “My childhood has done much to define who I am, even if I am now nearly a decade and a half removed from those days. But let us start with you, as I am sure you know much of my story.”
“Prodótar broke with tradition when he invited me to marriage.”
“Ooh,” I said. “Was it scandalous?”
“Quite so.” She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. “I am not of noble birth.”
I laughed. “We share something in common, then.”
“But you were a princess of the horse people.”
“Is that what people still say?” I asked. “I was certainly a daughter of the horse people, my grandfather the clan chief.”
“There. You see?”
“In our language, the word for clan and family are the same word.”
She stared. “How big was this clan?”
“About twenty or so,” I said. “And my father was the younger son, and I was the youngest daughter, and a girl besides. My only value was in trade, and I dare say almost no one realized I was gone the day after Princess Juleena led me west from The Hippa.”
“I didn’t know.”
“And so, we have this in common, and I might suggest my birth was far more base than yours.” I grinned. “Merchant’s daughter?”
